TITLE: Anchor (Part 9/16)
AUTHOR: Kerry Blackwell
PAIRING: Genfic - B/S and X/A as on the show
RATING: R
SPOILERS: Through "Wrecked" on Buffy and "Dad" on Angel
TIMELINE: Imagine it's about six weeks after those episodes and the ones we saw didn't happen.
DISCLAIMER: All things Buffy and Angel belong to Joss Whedon, the WB, UPN, FOX and Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox Film Corporation. I own only my genius (yeah, right!)
DISTRIBUTION: My site - White Hats - http://www.whitehats.co.nz (as soon as I'm well enough to code it and upload it) Any one else please ask first
FEEDBACK: Yes please!
THANKS: To Sarah for her editing assistance, and to Sarah and Ang for being ready to brainstorm with me when I begged appropriately.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I started this after seeing "Wrecked" and "Dad". My take on what could have happened next. It got totally Jossed immediately of course and since it takes me a long time to write anything, it got more and more AU as time went by. I had hoped to post it in the break, before anything _more_ happened, but I didn't manage it. Anyway, here it is. Just forget what happened after those two episodes and read my version. Please...

The man watched while the woman fought the vampire.

She didn't have the strength, agility or youth of a slayer, but she fought with a skill and tightly-reined aggression that worked in her favour because it was so well under control.

"That's them," Buffy hissed, dragging Spike down behind a headstone. "They're the ones I saw the other night."

She watched as the woman delivered a solid kick to the vampire's chest, sending the creature sprawling backwards. She followed up immediately, stake in hand, but the vampire was too quick, rolling out of range before she reached it.

"Do you think I've got competition?" Buffy asked thoughtfully.

"From her?" Spike snorted derisively. "Never, luv. Look at her footwork – she's going to trip herself up in a moment."

The man watching had come to the same conclusion. "Feet, Justine," he called in a low, carrying voice.

The woman's expression tightened for a moment, but so did her pacing and the vampire was soon dust on the ground.

"Not bad," Buffy whispered reluctantly.

It was a sentiment not obviously shared. There was a slow, sardonic clapping from over to the left, and a moment later two figures came into view. One was a sullen looking young man, who slouched as he walked. The second was a demon of a species and variety Buffy hadn't seen before. Of course, when one considered the sheer volume of books Giles owned on the subject of demons, there had to be a _lot_ of species she had never crossed paths with.

It was the demon who was clapping. "Nice work, my dear." His attention went to the man. "But we're here for the child, Holtz. Not to exterminate the Sunnydale vampire population."

The man in the long coat simply shrugged and turned away. As he waked from the graveyard, the woman fell in beside him. The demon followed, still remonstrating, while the young man trailed along at the back of the party.

Spike caught Buffy by the shoulder and dragged her to her feet. "Come on," he said impatiently, and started pulling her in the direction of home.

"What?" Buffy protested as she followed. It was that, have her arms ripped out its socket, or stake him. She rather liked her arm where it was and it seemed a shame to dust Spike just when they had finally reached some kind of understanding.

"It can't be him," Spike was muttering. "It can't be." He shook his head. "But it is, I'm sure of it."

"Who? Huh?" Buffy asked intelligently.

"Holtz," Spike explained as if she was particularly dense. "He was before my time, but I'm sure that was him." He flicked a glance at Buffy, who was walking beside him now. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but we need to get back to your place and call Angel."

"Angel," Buffy repeated weakly. Realising she wasn't exactly shining in the intelligence stakes, she forced Spike to a halt. "What's going on?" she demanded. "And why do we have to call Angel?" She pouted, feeling ridiculous for doing it the moment she felt her lips move. "I thought we were doing pretty well without him."

Spike smiled, placing two fingers under her chin and lifting her head so that she was looking at him. "We are, luv," he agreed. "We are. But Peaches needs to know about this. If anyone's going to stake the poof, it's going to be me. No-one else. _Me._"

He started walking again, long, swift strides that made his duster swing around his ankles. Buffy could only follow or get left behind.

"Damn." Spike slammed the phone down in frustration. "Got the bloody machine. He mimicked Cordelia's voice. "Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless."

"Hello, Spike, it's nice to see you again, too," Giles commented ironically.

Spike glanced up. "Hey, Watcher. Buffy said you were back." He remembered what else Buffy had said. "Thank you," he added quietly.

Giles nodded seriously. "I guess she didn't choose to stake you. That would have been my choice."

"If it was you, that would be my choice too," Spike retorted and Giles laughed shortly and nodded.

"What are you talking about?" Dawn asked with all the curiosity of a teenager.

"Nothing, Bit," Spike told her firmly.

Giles saw Buffy blush, but he was pleased to notice she kept her head up and managed to smile.

Dawn saw it too, and grinned. "Ha!" she proclaimed, pointing a finger at her sister. "About time, if you ask me."

"What?" Spike was trying to sound innocent, but Dawn wasn't buying it.

"You're making with the smoochies," Dawn informed him. "I can see it in her face."

Buffy flushed a bit more, but didn't deny it.

"Good," Dawn said in satisfaction. She looked back at Spike. "Does that mean you'll be around more?" There was a vulnerable note in her voice that made Buffy wince. "And you'll make sure Buffy doesn't come home all limpy any more?"

"Promise, Nibblet," Spike said gravely.

Abandoning her fifteen year-old dignity, Dawn barrelled into his arms. Spike caught her, staggering a little, and provided the desired hug. "Good," she whispered against his chest. "Good, good, good. Buffy's going to be better now, isn't she? With you and Giles to look after her."

Spike looked across her hair to see Giles watching him. Reluctantly, he acknowledged just how much they had in common. They both loved Buffy Summers, if differently, and they would both do anything to keep her safe. Perhaps that had different ideas about how to do that, but it didn't make the need or the emotion any less. He didn't particularly like it, this recognition that Giles held a place in her life that he could never fill, no matter how much he loved her. No, he didn't like it, but he couldn't deny it.

He doubted they would ever be friends, and the expression on Giles' face suggested he was thinking exactly the same thing. But they could co-exist for Buffy's sake.

"Rupert's still asleep," Willow announced as she came down the stairs. She stopped in the archway, taking in the scene in front of her. "What's with the hugs?" she asked.

Spike leered at her. "Want one, Red?"

"No, thank you," Willow assured him firmly. "You and Buffy finally make up?"

"Yeah," Dawn drawled with a giggle. "As in kiss and make up."

"Quiet, Bit," Spike hissed, but Willow had heard.

She looked at her friend. "Buffy?"

Buffy gave her a steady look, only the lightest of colour in her face. "Spike and I are kind of…" She thought for a moment. "Going out," she finished finally.

Willow gaped. She looked at Buffy, who gave her a slightly embarrassed smile. At Giles, who just shrugged. At Dawn, who was grinning. At Spike, who smirked. Finally, she turned her attention back to Buffy. "It's a vampire thing, isn't it?"

Buffy shook her head. "I think it's a Spike thing. It's all a bit complicated, but we're going to see what happens."

"Okay." Willow made a visible effort and rallied. "Can I be there when you tell Xander?"

"Where do we go now?" Fred asked as the convertible flashed past a sign reading 'Welcome to Sunnydale'.

"Buffy's place," Angel replied shortly, taking a left-hand turn with more speed and less caution that was strictly necessary.

"Is that a good idea?" Cordelia asked bluntly.

Angel didn't answer, but a low growl could just be heard over the sound of the engine.

"Okay," Cordy muttered defensively. "Don't listen to me. And don't expect me to clean the blood out of the carpet, either."

Gunn flicked a glance at Wesley, who simply shrugged. With those two, one never really knew what was going to happen when they came face to face. It could be blood, sweat _or_ tears, and unfortunately it couldn't be assumed they would only be metaphorical.

"Great plan," Gunn murmured.

Technically, there was no reply, but another soft growl suggested Angel had heard him.

He had.

He was aware of everyone in the car; of every tense muscle, every nervous breath, every beating heart. They pounded at him from all sides, a bass undertone that amplified the fear churning in his gut.

He swung another left, feeling he could drive this route with his eyes closed. This was the way to Buffy, and he would always know it, even if he should ever grow old and blind and infirm. Everything might be different now; they would never be able to go back to what they had been to each other, but Buffy owned a piece of him and she always would. It wasn't her fault; it was just the way it was.

Other people now held parts of him too. Wesley, Gunn, Fred, Lorne – whom he called friend, and who seemed pleased to do the same to him. Doyle, who had drawn him back into the world when he was losing his grip on it. Cordelia, who was a true friend; one who would – and did – support and trust him, who would insult him and tell him exactly what she thought and who would, if it ever came down to it, stake him without hesitation.

And, of course, there was Connor. His beautiful, unbelievable, miracle son, who tied his heart up in knots every time Angel even just remembered his little face. Connor owned the biggest part of him now, and that was exactly how it should be.

Thinking about Connor, Angel pushed up the speed of the car, taking an almost skidding right hand turn into Revello Drive. He heard Cordy suck in a sharp breath beside him, but he ignored it. They were almost there now.

Buffy was the Slayer. Buffy would help him find his son. No matter how difficult things might be between them sometimes, no matter how awful it was going to be explaining Connor, and therefore Darla, to her, she would help. He knew she would. And they needed her help. This was her turf, and he would take any local expertise he could and be grateful for it.

The convertible screamed to a halt outside 1630 and Angel was out of the car and striding up the drive before the others were even fully aware they had stopped.

"Here we go," Cordelia muttered and climbed out of the car to follow.

"Yay," Wesley added sardonically.

It was only when he was standing at the door, thumb pressed against the bell, that Angel realised he might no longer be invited into her house. If not, he hoped Buffy would ask him in, because it was going to be rather difficult to explain everything and beg for her help if he was stuck out on the porch.

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